Not in Cruelty, Not in Wrath
by Bazore
Summary: Ghosts of the past haunt the present day heroes. Takes place a number of years after "Powerless".
1. Wondrous Things

A/N:Some business to take care of. Firstly, the major body of the work is my own but _Heroes_ and all of its characters do not belong to me and are the property of Tim Kring, NBC, and any other number of Powers That Be.

This is my Heroes fanfic. It takes place a number of years after "Powerless". This is both an advantage and a disadvantage to me, personally. It's far enough away from the current storyline that I can take as many liberties as I'd like with the characters, but it's also so far away that you, the readers, are missing a lot of the "history" that just isn't key to my main story. I could, conceivably, write out in excruciating detail what has happened in the years between "Powerless" and "Not in Cruelty, Not in Wrath", but I am neither that creative nor that available to do so. :D

What follows is a series of "one-shots," for lack of a better word. Each chapter is pretty short and I've adopted a fairly sparse, dialogue-driven writing style for this, but they all work together to form a cohesive story (I hope). I'm not sure if this style will work out, but that's what experimenting is for.

Also, as a point of interest, the blurbs the precede each of them are usually lifted from songs or poems or possibly from _Heroes_. These are just flavor text that I felt deal well with the theme of the story or with _Heroes_.

Anyways, sorry for the long introductory note. It probably just doubled the word count of my first chapter. On with the show.

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_Is there a hero somewhere, someone who appears and saves the day? Someone who holds out a hand and turns back time?_

Choose. It is a simple command, an imperative that dominates all of human life. We feel that many of our choices are inconsequential, so insignificant that we are barely aware of them at all. But choices, even the ones we never knew we were making, must never be taken for granted. For when nature or God looks down at us, it can see all choices. It can see patterns and chains; the very fabric of the world.

Some choices get us something more: a better life, growth, wisdom.

Others have the ability to hurt those around us.

And still others have the power to destroy everything we hold dear.

Choices are dangerous, but they all afford us the opportunity to grow and change. Without them, humanity would all be for naught.

**January 1****st****, 1972**

"How are you feeling today, Xander?" There was a short groan of awareness before the boy sat up on his cot, rubbing his eyes under the harsh fluorescent light. He fixed emerald eyes on Daniel, the man who woke him. He was standing behind the glass and Xander, he deduced, was in some kind of holding cell. He swept his dark hair back in one motion and returned to eyeing Daniel.

"I think I could be better." Daniel chuckled politely.

"You must forgive us the accommodations."

"Must I?" Daniel chuckled again.

"I can see that we're going to get along just fine. What do you remember, exactly?" Xander hopped off of his cot and began to walk the uncomfortably small length of his cell.

"I remember being jumped…."

"Again, you must forgive us for that."

"Those were your men."

"Indeed. But what else about that day?" Xander stopped pacing for just a moment. He rubbed his left temple, where a small bruise had formed, and then place his hands behind his back and continued to walk.

"The man by the river…."

"Yes. It's really quite something. We've never seen a power like yours before."

"There are other powers?"

"Oh yes, there may be many powers out there. That's what we do here. We research and experiment and we help the gifted to grow into their abilities. We also heal the world, Xander." The boy stopped pacing again, his interest clearly piqued and Daniel smiled at this. Xander approached the glass as Daniel spoke more softly. "Yes, Xander, the world is in desperate need of our help. Of your help. I've seen what you can do and I know, deep in my heart, that you can be the hero this world needs."

"But…but how?"

"First things first, my lad. We must see exactly what it is you can do. But I have high hopes that you can accomplish wondrous things…"


	2. The Horror

_They had behind them, to my mind, the terrific suggestiveness of words heard in dreams, of phrases spoken in nightmares._

**January 5****th****, 1972**

"Look at him."

"I don't think I understand."

"Here. Look at cell 09 and then look at this one."

"They're both pacing?"

"They're performing the exact same motions!" They both looked from screen to screen, but the taller, clean-shaven man frowned in confusion. "Look, now they both sit on their cots at the same time and then…09 picks up his book to read. 10 searches...just look at that Adam, look at it…he performs the same movements even though he doesn't have a book in his cell."

"I'm not sure what we're seeing here, friend."

"It's so incredible…. Victoria is amazed as well. She is certain that if we asked 10 about _Heart of Darkness_, he'll be able to answer correctly even though he hasn't had access to it!"

"Have the others seen this?"

"Most of them and they're all quite impressed. I think we really have something here. Something that will change the world forever."

"And what will we be doing with 10, then?"

"Angela has suggested that he be terminated. Some of the neuro readings were…strange. She feels that it's too dangerous to keep 10 alive. There was some outrage, but I think that's the course we will take."

"I like this kid already."


	3. Locking up the Sun

_Where love rules, there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there, love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other._

**January 8****th****, 1972**

"Sir, I've been wondering about Michael."

"Please, Xander, call me Daniel. I'm not old enough yet to be a sir." And he smiled. Square and almost unfeeling, but Xander couldn't be sure of this.

"Is Michael here as well?"

"Well, you tell me, Xander. Can you not sense him?"

"I could, the last time. Now, though…. I don't think I can."

"Perhaps your power wanes over time. It must take a great deal of concentration to do all the amazing things you can."

"How will I know?"

"We will be running some more tests tomorrow. Mostly neurological exams, very boring, but very important."

"You're looking for the limits of my gift."

"Yes. But we'll also be looking for ways to break those limits and show you how powerful you really are."

"And Michael?"

"We will be running similar tests on Michael, yes. But I wouldn't be too concerned about him. His tests are not nearly as important as yours."

"I know, but…I did save him." Daniel smiled again, the same smile from before.

"That you did, Xander! That you did…."


	4. The First Victim

_I was anxious to deal with this shadow by myself alone--and to this day I don't know why I was so jealous of sharing with anyone the peculiar blackness of that experience._

**January 13****th****, 1972**

"Xander, I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"With my tests?"

"No." Daniel put both his hands in his pockets and lowered his head, sadly. "With Michael."

"What? How could…?"

"You're still learning how to control your abilities, my boy. And there's just so much concentration on your part that, frankly, I've been expecting this since we brought Michael in for observation." Xander's eyes widened, but he expressed no other emotion than this.

"So, he's…"

"Yes, Xander. I'm afraid he's passed on." Daniel waited with his sad, yet understanding face, but Xander made no other motions, no other sounds. He seemed deep in thought. "Are you alright, Xander?"

"Did I kill him?"

"Oh, no, no, you mustn't think like that, Xander. He was the first to be lucky enough to experience your gift and I have no doubt he was grateful for that. You are here so that we can help you gain experience with wielding your power and this event will never have to repeat itself."

"Can't I just…?"

"No. I know what you're thinking of doing, and you cannot."

"But why?"

"There are…complications. I will explain all of this to you during our testing session next week, but right now, I must attend a meeting with my colleagues. Is there anything you need? I can have a nurse send it right over." Xander's eyes darted back and forth, back and forth, as if he were reading something only he could see.

"No. No. I will be fine…."


	5. Doubter

_Evolution is an imperfect and often violent process. A battle between what exists and what is yet to be born. In the midst of these birth pains, morality loses its meaning. The question of good and evil reduced to one simple choice: survive or perish._

**March 1****st****, 1972**

"Don't you see how potent this weapon is?"

"I can certainly see its potency. That's what concerns me."

"Now, now. We can't help all of them. There must be thousands of them out there and there are only a handful of us. And those who cannot be helped could present a danger to everything we've worked for!"

"And what is this…thing…going to do?"

"He's going to help us."

"Is that so? And why would he do that?"

"He understands that our cause is just."

"No. He understands that he's unlocked untold power. We've never seen anything like this and we don't know how he will react if we set him loose."

"We _are_ setting him loose, Charles."

"We can't. I will take the issue up with the others."

"The others see the potential of this boy. You're the only blind one."

"I find it hard to believe that Kaito…"

"Kaito, included. And Maury."

"Maury is a thug and we all know it."

"Regardless, he will be key in this project. He will be able to control 09 should anything go wrong." Charles folded his hands in front of him and frowned. He stared through the glass at the sedated form lying beneath the sterile sheets of its cot. The cell had been designed, he recalled, for "problem patients". He wondered, briefly, if the irony was lost on Daniel. Probably not.

"You know, I'm beginning to have doubts about this organization."

"Then let your doubts be soothed when you come and see the first trial run next week."


	6. Mistakes

_The tendency to turn human judgments into divine commands makes religion one of the most dangerous forces in the world._

**March 8****th****, 1972**

"Still have faith in your little toy?"

"Some failures are to be expected."

"Yes!" Charles chuckled, "_nothing_ happened. That strikes me as a pretty significant failure."

"Now, now, Charles."

"Perhaps you should just take this as a sign that you shouldn't continue with this insanity."

"I won't be."

"I'm glad you've listened to reason."

"No, Charles, I've been taken off the project. Adam will be overseeing it from now on." Charles' smile faltered.

"And I thought this project couldn't possibly spiral out of control any more than it has."

"You used to have vision, Charles."

"And you used to have heart, Daniel."

**August 23****rd****, 1973**

"Is there anything off about Dr. Maricle to you?"

"No. Why?"

"She hasn't been dreaming."

"And? I don't dream. And I'm pretty sure she wouldn't take kindly to you watching her dreams, mate."

"She just seems so tense, lately. Afraid."

"I'm sure it's nothing."

"Your experiment hasn't been getting out of hand?"

"He actually has a very unique view of the mortal coil. I think he could be very useful to the bigger picture."

"To the bottom line, you mean."

"Daniel had been telling me about your hostility to this project."

"Ever since we organized into this…Company…we've been diving more and more often into grey moral areas. This boy's power should never have been nurtured, it should have been destroyed."

"But we will use his power to destroy other dangerous powers."

"No. They won't be destroyed. They'll belong to him."

"Maury will keep him in line, mate!"

"You'd think this Company would be intimately familiar with the properties of a virus. The further it spreads, the more chaos it controls."

"This is not the same thing."

"This is precisely the same thing."

"Have you even met the boy yet, Charles? Spoken with him?"

"…No."

"I think you should do that before you pass judgment."


	7. Eye to Eye

_The salvation of the world is in man's suffering._

**September 2****nd****, 1973**

Charles must have been in room 09 for an hour. It felt much longer.

"My colleagues tell me that you are…very special."

"And my keen sense of observation tells me that you are less than impressed by that." 09 smiled in such a way that unsettled Charles. It was a liar's smile, the kind that did not quite crinkle the eyes and that was square and unfeeling. It had been practiced, he was sure of that. Or mimicked. All the motions were there, but none of the meaning.

"You're very wrong, Xander. I'm quite impressed with your ability. It's just that…"

"You're scared of what I can do?"

"That I'm not sure we've done a competent job of raising you."

"Raising me? I am much older than I look." Charles smiled, truly, and began to pace in front of the protective glass.

"Yes, but you've only recently come into your powers and, in that sense, you're still very much a child." The rehearsed smile on Xander's face remained fixed, like a porcelain doll's, but all the practice in the world could not hide how Xander had bristled at this. "I'm afraid that Mr. Linderman and Mr. Monroe have been filling your head with…very grand ideas."

"I can change the world, Mr. Deveaux."

"I know, son. But there's more than one way to change the world."

"Is that so?" Xander spat. He rose from the cot in the center of the cell and began to follow Charles' pacing. "Tell me, then, how else can you change it?"

"Where are your parents, Xander?" Early on, when he had first been brought here, Charles had often seen a couple in the boy's dreams. His parents, he'd assumed. Lately, however, those dreams had disappeared and he could read nothing of the boy's subconscious.

"Don't toy with me. Everything you'd ever want to know about me is in my file and you've already read that."

"You're very perceptive for your age."

"I am many things, Mr. Deveaux. I am peace. I am salvation."

"Love is our salvation, boy. Love is how the world will change for the better. Anything less and it will spiral out of control faster than even you could imagine." Xander slammed his fist against the glass. Charles was unmoved.

"Love is _nothing_ compared to what I can do." Charles turned away from the boy who now glared at him, motionless, through the glass. He shut the lights and left Xander in the darkness.


	8. Buried Alive

_You don't talk with that man. You listen to him._

**March 17****th****, 1975**

"I _know_ what I am capable of!"

"How can you know when even I don't?"

"But I can _feel_ it!"

"Xander, you haven't been able to perform the same trick twice. And you've been here for over three years now."

"Then why are you keeping me here? Why would you continue the tests if you didn't think I had real power?"

"The others have been talking about shutting our little project down, mate. They just can't get enough support. Yet. They're going to want to see results and soon."

"You'll have to bring me a different subject. The ones you keep giving me are too…difficult…manipulate."

"Difficult? Difficult how?"

"Some are special."

"The evolved ones? You can't affect evolved humans?"

"I can, I'm just not strong enough yet."

"Yes. Yes, that's the only reason they've let our project go on as long as it has. It's these secondary abilities you've been showing. As far as we know, evolved humans only have one ability, but you…. Lookit, you haven't aged in the years you've been here. It could be connected."

"That's the other thing. Some of the subjects are too old. It's harder that way."

"I figured that, but my friends have grown a little squeamish of late. But listen, I have a plan. One of our scientists has been working on something very special and I think it will provide you with just the boost you need to really show 'em what you can do."

"What is it?"

"That's a secret for now. I still need to get my hands on it, but trust me, not only will it up your strength, it will make you look like a hero, saving all those people."

"And if they see the miracles I can work, they'll let me change the world."

"That's right, mate. You can wipe the whole world clean and make it better. You're our salvation."

**December 1****st****, 1976**

Xander paced briskly around his cell, wringing his hands behind his back. His face, however, betrayed nothing of his excitement. Today was the day. Adam had been in to speak with him every week since he explained his plan. They ran some tests, this time with animals, but with little success. All in all, things had seemed very routine on the surface. Today, however, was the fulfillment of over a year's worth of planning.

Except, Adam was late.

Very late.

And when that alarm had sounded, Xander's excitement transformed into anxiety. He waited, seemingly calm, by the glass when the door finally opened.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Maricle."

"Good afternoon, Xander. How are we feeling today?"

"Fine. Just fine."

And yet, something silent passed between them and Xander's eyes narrowed with rage and disappointment. Dr. Maricle shut the lights and left the room to let Xander brood.


	9. Into the Fire

_We bury love. Forgetfulness grows over it like a grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead._

**December 6****th****, 1976**

"With Adam Monroe in solitary confinement, I'd like to bring up the issue of Project 09. It was, after all, his."

"What is there to say, Charles?"

"Something must be done. That we even allowed it to progress as far as it has is…"

"Oh, Charles, enough of this nonsense. The boy hasn't been able to repeat the same stunt from nearly a year ago. It's doubtful he possesses anything more than minor psychic abilities."

"Then at the very worst you have an extremely deluded young man who thinks he can reshape the world! And do I have to remind all of you how he first came to our attention?" There was a short silence.

"I have to agree with Charles. After what Adam tried to pull in my lab, I'm not sure any of our experiments are truly safe any longer.

"Yes, I must agree with Charles as well, Linderman. I am ashamed to have been a part of this project."

"And what do you suggest, Kaito? We kill the boy?"

"I don't…"

"Yes." Almost all of the members present turned to Angela who had not spoken once in the several hours they had been in the meeting. "We should kill him, Kaito."

"Angela, please."

"No, Charles. It must be done. It's for the best. He certainly can't be adopted into one of our families," she spat. The man seated next to her shifted uncomfortably.

"Containment is still a viable option."

"He's a virus, Victoria. Containing him won't solve the problem. It'll just add time to the countdown before he returns to the light of day."

"Well, then, Kaito, we'll just have to create a different countdown that will bury him for good." Charles narrowed his glare on Angela.

"What do you mean?" Angela snapped up her papers and stood before the Company founders.

"I haven't worked out the details, of course, but…I was thinking about a bomb."


	10. A Virus

December 31st, 2012

_We still have judgment here; that we but teach bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor._

**December 31****st****, 2023**

New York City.

Peter's heart sank as he looked upon Times Square. Too often had he visited it and, too often, the visit ended in tragedy. He looked around at the throngs of people bustling past cars and bright lights, moving from one store to another, the very pulse of the city in their every step.

Everything seemed as it should be. There was only the familiar haze of sleep that reminded him that he was dreaming.

And there was Charles.

"Peter."

"Mr. Deveaux…"

"If he can't do it alone, neither can you. But you have that important difference, Peter. He can only pretend, but you, you've really got it." Charles seemed sad despite the smile he put on when Peter made eye contact with him. Before Peter could say anything else, Charles was gone.

His arm was gripped tightly by a massive hand.

He turned to face a man, whose dark eyes were widened with surprise, as if he recognized Peter and was shocked to find him here, now.

"Hey, man, what are you doing?" Those shadowy amber eyes changed, then, and turned to a deep, dark green.

"Peter Petrelli…"

"How do you…" Peter stopped as an unnatural silence fell over the city. Every car had ground to a halt and every person stood still. The pulse of the city died so suddenly that the silence that followed was deafening.

And then it was filled.

People began to turn their heads. People in their cars. People across the street. In bars and restaurants. They looked at Peter. Hundreds, thousands of emerald eyes turned to lock their gazes on him.

"Peter Petrelli…"

"Peter Petrelli…"

And then they attacked.


	11. Black Miracle

January 1st, 2013

_Thought is an infection. In the case of certain thoughts, it becomes an epidemic._

**January 1****st****, 2013**

Hands clasped behind his back, he walked slowly, methodically, towards the table where his quarry lay still. It had been three years since this old factory had last been inhabited. Nothing had _lived_ there, of course. But, he believed, the crumbling steel mill still housed a dark secret.

Ah, yes. There he was.

Time had not been merciful to Gabriel. Fitting. Covered in dust and the stench of his decay, the corpse had not been disturbed or mourned in the years since he had fallen here, shattered pipe still clutched in his hand.

He kicked aside a fallen brick that rested in his path.

"Oh, Sylar. You were such a disappointment to me." The eyes, long since destroyed by the ravages of decay, sat full of fluid and hate, glowering at Xander. A pool of black caked thickly on his shirt. Such a simple, stale color was the only evidence of how such tremendous power had been so quickly snuffed out.

Whispers in the dark.

"Shh, shh, shh. This is no time for excuses." Xander gently patted Sylar's matted hair, kicking up the dust, which could only faintly be seen in the moonlight streaming in from above. Grease and dust stuck to Xander's hand and he gracefully pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it away. "And besides, I did not come here only to scold you." The factory was as silent as it had always been for the past few years, but now, there was tension in the grey and rusting tomb. Xander mused that the ghosts of the past had come to watch this most momentous occasion.

"I've come to give you a gift." And Xander met Sylar's gaze, hoping to see a change in expression, a sign of surprise and then gratitude, but the corpse only offered its congealed, gaping mask. "Your work is unfinished. Your talents lie wasted in these shadows." Xander lifted his right hand and admired it for a moment. Only for a moment, and, then, short sparks of blue energy crackled and wrapped around his fingers and dance upon his palm.

The darkness chattered louder.

"Rise from your grave. Complete your destiny." Xander pressed his palm firmly against Sylar's chest.

"This is your _last _chance…."

The energy snapped loudly and erupted from their silent dance around Xander's thin fingers and flew into Sylar's mouth and eyes. Sylar's back arched and his mouth, still open from the shock of dying, let forth a raspy groan. The dust of the past three years blew away in the wind, skin reattached itself to bone, eyes reformed themselves in their sockets, and pus and dried blood gave way to a fresh and new body. The sword wound in his stomach silently shut and, with that, Sylar had returned to life.

Sylar sat up, rigid with fear and excitement, touching his neck and face to reassure himself that, yes, in fact, he was living again.

Xander, however, was leaning against a nearby workbench, also clutching at his face, but to stop the flow of blood, which dripped from his eyes and nose. Taking deep, sharp breaths, he winced with pain as he rose to stand straight and meet Sylar's true eyes. Sylar only stared at him in shock.

"Welcome…back…" Xander gasped. Sylar remained motionless. Xander tilted his head and, furrowing his brow, returned Sylar's gaze.

Sylar grabbed the pipe lying next to him. For just a flicker, Xander's eyes widened in surprise and, perhaps, fear as Sylar lunged at him with his pipe. Just as Sylar brought the weapon inches away from breaking Xander's neck, he suddenly stopped, frozen in place. Xander wiped away the last traces of blood from his face and slowly walked around the motionless Sylar with a look of amusement on his face.

"That is fascinating. I have to consciously control your actions. Boy, that could have ended poorly for me." As Xander returned to face Sylar, the resurrected watchmaker's eyes narrowed in fury and the muscles around his throat tensed. "You may speak."

"What are you doing to me!?" He surprised himself with the ferocity of his voice which had not been used in many years. It was raspy, like gravel, and metallic. Reading Sylar's thoughts, Xander chuckled humorlessly as he heard Sylar compare his once velvety voice with the torn, battered thing it had become.

"I, personally, would show a little gratitude. I just brought you back from the dead." Sylar lowered his arms and, finding himself free to move, dropped his weapon and looked at his hands.

"I…I was dead…."

"Very much so."

"How did you…?"

"It is my gift."

"Gift?" Sylar looked back to Xander, his eyes widening with something that could only be described as hunger. Xander laughed.

"I can safely say that your days of stealing things that never belonged to you are over. Consider your servitude to me as your punishment for hurting so many people."

"Servitude!"

"There is a price to pay with every gift. I have given you another chance at life. In exchange, you are irrevocably connected with my mind. All that you do, you do because of me. Not to worry though, I will let you maintain most of your free will." The fury had very clearly returned to Sylar's face, but Xander did not need to look at him to know. He could feel Sylar's anger as if it were his own.

"It doesn't sound like free will to me." Xander shrugged.

"You will come to understand the wonders of my gift in time. Unfortunately, we have much work to do."

"I'm going to find a way out of this. And when I do, I'm going to carve into your skull and take that lovely power of yours. And then you can be _my _prisoner." Xander looked at him gravely.

And then smiled.

"Charming. Not as bright as I thought you were, though." Sylar, taken aback by the insult, could only glare at his captor. "We have a mission, Sylar, and you are key to my plans. As a little incentive…"

"Incentive?" Xander smiled.

"In a manner of speaking. I don't need you cooperate with me. I could just force you to follow all of my orders. Still, I'd prefer if you understood the righteousness of my mission. We are going to change the world, Sylar. We're going to create a paradise, heal the Earth of all its illnesses. Sadness, war, anger, jealousy, death…. It will be beautiful."

Xander waited for a response from Sylar, but none came. Instead, he heard Sylar's only thought. _You're insane_. Xander's smile, which had grown as he launched into his sermon on the new world he planned to create, faded quickly. "Strange criticism coming from someone like you. If that isn't enough to convince you, I could also give you the chance to confront your killer."

"My…" Sylar looked to down at the floor in pained confusion. He searched his mind past the solid, dark wall of the past three years of his death and reached beyond to the time when he was still alive, still in control.

"Hiro, my friend. Hiro killed you."


End file.
